


Pomegranate Seeds

by EveTen



Series: The Changing Seasons [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hydra (Marvel), Imprisonment, Kid Fic, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-05-28 17:59:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15054686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveTen/pseuds/EveTen
Summary: Peter Parker is being hunted by Hydra.  Hydra!  He's not at all sure how he got on their radar, or how they’re still active after all of the crap that's happened, but here he is.  He's Spider-Man, though, so he can take anything they throw at him!Right?





	1. The Descent into the Underworld

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm getting back into the game, as it were, but I'm still a little rusty so please forgive me if this is a little subpar. The idea for this story started bugging me a while ago and I decided to just go ahead and write it out. Also, I don't have a beta reader and I've only proofed this myself a couple of times so it it's funky that'll be why. 
> 
> I'm going to update the tags with each chapter so I can keep most of the story somewhat of a surprise. I also think I might have overshot on the rating and the warning just a bit but I'd rather be safe than sorry. If the kidnapping, experimentation, and general abuse of a minor disturbs or discomforts you greatly this might not be the fic for you.
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Peter Benjamin Parker is well and truly fucked.

 

He hates to use that particular terminology, he likes to think he could find someway to get out of most situations, but he knows he’s pretty screwed in this instance.

 

Hydra is after him.  Real, actual Hydra agents are on his tail in freaking helicopters, intimidating SUVs, and running on the rooftops and streets while he did his best to swing to safety.  It was like they’d dragged out a small army to attack Spider-Man in the middle of his home territory.  That, of course, terrifies Peter on a couple of levels.  Where did they get this kind manpower and hardware and when exactly did a brightly colored, spider-themed vigilante become Hydra’s wheelhouse?  Also, where did they get the dang courage to do so in broad daylight in Queens? Seriously!

 

Jeez, it wasn’t like he was Captain America or the Winter Soldier!

 

His day had been going so well too!  He’d aced his analysis on Hamlet, not an easy task in Peter’s opinion, and had even been able to do a little laundry before he’d left his apartment after school!  May loved it when she didn’t have to worry about laundry when she got home from work.

 

He had just been minding his own business, really, swinging around and stopping whatever crime he could.  It wasn’t a lot of work, granted, and it wasn’t that impactful when came to big organizations like Hydra but Peter definitely felt like it was important work.  He also really doesn’t think that he deserves to have Hydra, of all evil organizations, out to get him!

 

Really, though, wasn’t Hydra-

 

_Twisttwisttwist_

 

That was a string of bullets and not the taser round things they’d been using and, holy shit, Peter was officially terrified.

 

“Come on!  Aren’t you guys out of business?  Didn’t Captain America and S.H.I.E.L.D. get rid of you guys?”

 

An electrified net is the response he receives and, while slightly better than the bullets, is not at all something the Peter feels he wants being shot at him.  Preferably, nothing would be shot at him at all.

 

“Can we talk about this?  Spider to multi-head worm thing?”

 

Cue barrage of tranquilizer darts.  He hopes they’re tranquilizer darts, at least.

 

Alright, Peter can’t let this stupid pursuit go on anymore.  Maybe if he-

 

“Karen, plot a route to the nearest and emptiest industrial complex.  Some where with some high buildings preferably.  We gotta get away from any civilians!”

 

“Of course, Peter. You should see the route on your display now. May I also suggest we contact Mr. Stark for assistance?”

 

Oh heck no. What would Mr. Stark think of him if he couldn’t handle a few non-powered people after turning down an offer to join the Avengers?  Besides, he’d just freak out over Hydra wanting something with him and bench his work as Spider-Man!  Again!  Though, admittedly, Mr. Stark has been a bit more involved with Peter lately.

 

“No, no, don’t do that!  It’ll be fine!”

 

Peter attaches a web to the corner of a building and swings right to follow the path Karen laid out.  It seemed to be leading them towards the water front which, while not exactly the best thing for Peter given his propensity for tall buildings and swinging, did mean that there would be very limited civilian risk.

 

Even if water and warehouses still made Peter twinge.

 

He’s not Peter Parker right now though.

 

Alright Spider-Man, Peter thought to himself, what’s the battle plan here?

 

He needed to take out the two helicopters yesterday.  If he can get those out of the way, Spider-Man’s got the air all to himself.

 

“Karen, will the taser webs be enough to knock those helicopters out of the sky?”

 

“You won’t be able to effect those electronically with what we have on hand, Peter.  Not in this situation at least.  We do have a web setting that should be strong enough to halt the movement of the blades if you could get them around the rotor mast.  That should be sufficient to remove them from the field.”

 

“Sounds good,” Peter says, “is there a vantage point I can get to?  A crane or something?”

 

“You’ll see it on your left momentarily.”

 

Crane, check.  Peter just needs to get the helicopters close enough.

 

_flipuptwistbend_

 

Shit, more bullets from the ground.  How the hell did they get to Peter so fast?  He knows he lost the ground troops and the SUVs a couple blocks back.  Does Hydra really still have this many people to throw at him?

 

He manages to swing to the top of the crane that Karen had highlighted for him and, luckily, is followed by one of the helicopters.  They’re shooting at him, bullets and tranquilizers alike, but none of them are quite able to hit him.

 

Peter’s never been so grateful for his Spidey-sense.

 

Peter flips around the crane for another moment, trying to find the best angle to hit the rotor, before he switches his webshooters to the correct setting.  Another quick flip, straight into open air, just over the blades, a little webbing and a little aim stills the rotor mast and sends the plane careening to the ground.

 

One more and Peter’s in the clear.

 

Despite the fire coming from the ground and the other helicopter Peter manages to get back to the crane without a graze.  The second helicopter, seeing what Peter’s plan was, is far more wary of the crane and keeps its distance while keeping up its assault.

 

Difficult but not impossible.

 

“Hey, Karen, does the glider in the suit still work?”

 

“It does.  I’d suggest reaching the top of the crane and then reenacting the D.C. rescue.”

 

Peter can’t help but grin, “That’s the plan!”

 

He scrambles to the top, takes a breath, and _leaps_.

 

Just over the blades, back turned down and face towards the sun, Peter feels just the tiniest bit invincible.

 

He starts his descent on the far side of the helicopter and prepares to bring down.

 

He’s going to own the sky.

 

Spider-Man carefully aims, time seemingly slowed to a fraction of a second, and presses his webshooters down.

 

He gets an electrified net to the face before the webs can even launch.

 

Peter burns and hurts and falls-

 

Blackness.

 

Thud.

 

Nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

“We got hi-”

 

Shouting and sunlight.

 

“Jesus- Avengers- Child soldier?”

 

Cool air on his face.

 

“Prep-”

 

Chemicals and sterility.

 

“Shit, he’s coming out of sedation, get him und-”

 

Heavy skin.  Aching bones.

 

“Do we really need samples from there?”

 

Screaming fire.  Burning burrowing.

 

“Don’t talk down t-”

 

Shouting and shadow.

 

“It will work just fine.”

 

* * *

  

Peter wakes up slowly, feeling like cinderblocks were on his chest and needles were jabbing into his bones, in a bed that’s not his own and to an unfamiliar white room.

 

White walls, white floor, white sheets.  A ceiling of white light.  No door.  Just white.

 

“What the hell?” His voice is hoarse from sleep.

 

Peter’s fairly certain this is his King’s Cross Station and he definitely did not make an appointment with any Albus Dumbledore.

 

He needs to move, needs to find a way out-

 

“Ah, dammit!”

 

Peter takes a tumble onto the floor.  His chin smacks hard on the ground and his legs feel like jelly.

 

Jeez, Peter’s never felt this weak in his life. Physically weak, he means. His muscles feel like they’ve been stripped of any strength, like he’d just done a thousand push ups, squats, and crunches.

 

His ribs hurt so bad.  God, Peter must have fallen hard during the fight.

 

He manages to struggle to his feet which are, somehow, miraculously able to hold him up. Get his bearings, that’s what he needs to do.

 

The room he’s in is fairly small; about the size of his living room.  Maybe twelve feet in all measurements. There’s the bed he just feel out of, attached to a wall, and a small table with a bench also attached to a wall, opposite the bed.  There’s a small dresser beside the bed filled with a bunch of white tank tops, sweats, and underwear.  There’s a handle attached to the wall which pulls open slightly.  Not enough for him to fit in.  A laundry chute, Peter guesses.

 

Peter’s wearing the same type of white tank and sweats which means he was stripped and dressed by Hydra agents. 

 

It makes him shudder and he can’t help but feel dirty.

 

There’s also a shower, a sink, and a toilet all tucked into a corner of the room.  There’s also a water fountain built into the wall by the sink.  The sink is one of those big plastic basin type sinks, like the ones for bathing dogs or something. The shower is more a shower head with a drain on a graded part of the floor than an actual shower.

 

Peter’s pretty sure these people are planning on keeping him here a while.

 

Too bad for them.

 

The room is almost seamless which might make escape a little bit harder.  There isn’t a door that he can see and no windows either.  Just a lot of wall.  But Peter’s strong.  A lot stronger than even he really knows.  Punching his way out isn’t exactly the best idea but it might be his only option.

 

“Alright, Spider-Man, what’s the plan? Maybe a wait and see approach would be best? Patience is a virtue after all.”

 

Mr. Stark was a captive for six months, Peter recalls.  Patience and ingenuity are the best traits to have in this situation, he guesses, because Mr. Stark got out alright.  If there’s one thing that Peter’s learned about Mr. Stark it’s that he’s patient.  He’d have to be to put up with Peter.  No one would argue that he’s ingenious either.

 

Peter can do this, though he’s not sure how yet, if he can be like Mr. Stark. 

 

If he can find some kind of weakness, structural or electrical, Peter might not have to try to brute force his way out.  Assuming brute force would work.  Peter’s not sure it would.

 

Wow, did Peter miss Karen. It would be nice to get some sort of analysis on the room from her. There’s only so much Peter can find out just from looking.

 

Oh, shit.  Karen!  Karen and the suit are gone!  Peter let the suit that Tony fucking Stark made him, a million dollar suit with an AI, fall into the hands of Hydra. He’ll freak and never give him another suit and, fuck, Peter can’t handle that. The last time Peter didn’t have his suit he got _crushed_ and-

 

Peter can’t breathe.

 

Suddenly, there’s a hiss coming from the wall opposite the bed that startles him out of an impending panic attack.  A small portion of the wall extends out, almost like a drawer, that wasn’t much bigger than a lunch tray.  Which Peter can see is also exactly what it produces once he looks past the front part of it.

 

There’s a couple of bars on it, like the kind of bars that are supposed to be healthy, a sandwich, an apple, a cup of what looks like juice.

 

So it’s feeding time.

 

Peter very carefully approaches the tray and notices that there’s also a small folded piece of paper addressed to him.  He picks it up and reads what it says. Which is basically a lot of bullshit. You know, just a lot of: You’re stuck here, you’re ours, ha ha we’re maniacal overlords just give in, compliance will be rewarded, blah blah blah.

 

Stupid Hydra jerks.

 

At least the food seems safe.  His spider-sense isn’t reacting at all.  He’s freaking starving and it would suck if they tried to poison him. He picks the tray up, which makes the wall retract, and takes it to the table to eat.

 

If Peter’s going to be honest, he is a bit worried about his current situation. Hydra is a pretty tough enemy regardless of who you are.  It took Captain America a while to take down Hydra the first time and he didn’t even really succeed.  How could puny Peter Parker hope to fight them off?

 

But that was defeatist talk and Parkers aren’t defeatist.

 

Maybe Mr. Stark will realize that he’s gone? It’s not like the pursuit he was in was a private affair. Peter is sure he knows Peter’s missing by now.  Besides, he and Peter have been working together a lot more and even just kind of hanging out together recently! Peter knows Mr. Stark won’t leave him to these goons.

 

Peter just has to wait.  He just has to hold out. He’s going to figure a way out.

 

If not, Mr. Stark will come and get him.

 

Peter is absolutely sure of that.


	2. Pomegranate Seed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is probably gonna go a completely different direction than the way most of you thought it was going to go? I hope you don't hate it?

Peter wakes up in bed.  This isn't abnormal but it doesn't feel right for the first couple of seconds he's waking. It takes him a minute to remember where he is, again, but when he does he’s surprised at the fury that erupts inside him even after all these months.  It isn’t fair.  He’s been in this stupid room for who knows how long, fallen asleep a hundred times, he feels like, and woken up just as confused and then just as distraught each time and god he just-

 

Peter just wants to go home.

 

Nine months, maybe, he’s been stuck in this room.  He’s not sure.  He can’t mark the days because he doesn’t have a way to tell time.  He gets food twice, he looks for a possible way out, a weakness of some kind, and then he sleeps.  Rinse and repeat.  He never actually finds a weakness of any kind.  Not one he can access at least.

 

Breakfast is the first meal of the day, dinner the second, in between the two he tries to exercise and look for a way out.  Sleep after dinner.  Day in, day out.  If he could find some way to make the food door stay open just long enough to get his head in he might be able to find a weakness but he can’t do it.  It closes too fast once he removes the food and it closes if he doesn’t get the food quick enough.

 

He’s tried so hard to do what Mr. Stark would do.  Be smart and patient, use his head and not his fists but Peter-

 

Peter can’t do that anymore.

 

“I’m done with this,” he growls. 

 

Peter throws himself out of the bed and stalks over to the wall that opens up to deliver his food.

 

The wall is totally flat, no sign that it opens at all, but that doesn’t discourage Peter.  No, he’s more than happy to beat the ever living hell out of it and _make_ it open.

 

“Open!”

 

Smack.

 

“Up!”

 

Smack.

 

“You!”

 

Smack

 

“Piece!”

 

Smack.

 

“Of shit!”

 

Peter, having made no progress at all, punched the wall as hard as he could one last time, screaming out his frustration.  His voice cracks with the force of it and tears well up in his eyes.

 

“Just fucking open!” He shrieks at the wall, voice pitching higher in his distress.

 

His hands are messed up to hell and he starts to bash his head into the wall instead.  Fuck this place, he thinks, I just want out!

 

He bangs his head into the wall as hard as he can but he can’t do it for long.  His body stops him regardless of what his mind wants.

 

He stops and leans forward, blood dripping into his eyes, and whispers, “Please, _please_ , I just want to go home.”

 

“I’m so lonely.  Please, let me out.”

 

He’s not broken, he’s not, he just wants to talk.  To negotiate, trick, or beat his way out. 

 

He’s not _broken_.

 

_Hiss_

 

The wall opens just a crack and some kind of gas pours out.  It makes his eyes water and burn, sets his throat on fire and forces Peter to cough.  His vision goes black.

 

This isn’t fair, he thinks, just before he falls into oblivion.

 

* * *

 

Peter wakes up strapped to a chair in a dark room.  There’s a light shining on him but Peter can’t see anything else.

 

He yanks his arms up, trying to get them loose, but he can’t move them more than an inch.  Peter would like to be impressed but he’s honestly so done with Hydra being competent that he just feels like screaming.

 

The door rattles, creaks open, and shuts.  Peter can hear the click-clack of shoes walking towards him.  They stop just at the edge of the light.  Peter can’t see whoever walked in but he can hear their breathing, light and assured.

 

“Wh-who’s there?  S-show yourself!” He stutters.

 

God, he can’t even handle an interrogation right.  Mr. Stark would be so disappointed and that just makes everything worse somehow.

 

“I’m quite comfortable, Mr. Parker,” an accented male voice replies, “and I’m so sorry we’ve had to keep you like this.  Unfortunately, you almost certainly would have been uncooperative.  I’m hoping that now, however, you might be more inclined to listen to what I have to say.”

 

Peter gulps and shakes his head, “Y-yeah, sure, buddy.  I’ll cooperate right through you face!”

 

The voice chuckles, “Yes, I’m sure.  But, bravado aside, I think you’ll find you’re quite out of choices.”

 

The click-clack starts again, circling Peter, “As you know, Hydra has, as of recent years, suffered a series of debilitating defeats.  Our exposure, Captain America’s victory, the Avenger’s hunt for out leaders, the Winter Soldier’s loss, and the badgering by the remnants of S.H.I.E.LD. have all left our organization very weak.  Some of us, however few, see new opportunities now.”

 

The man stops, directly behind Peter’s head, “The Avengers are broken, scattered and weak.  S.H.I.E.L.D. is reviled and a mere shadow of it’s former glory.  The Winter Soldier is only a broken man.  The world’s attention has been drawn elsewhere and we can build in the shadows once more.”

 

He takes a deep breath, “We have need of a new weapon.  A new soldier.  Better than the Winter Soldier.  More efficient, more reliable, stronger and better.  And in this hour of need, what should we find but a spider, capable of going toe to toe with the Avengers?”

 

Peter, despite himself, can’t help but snort, “So, what, you want me to be the new Winter Soldier?  Spider-Soldier instead of Spider-Man?  Heck no, you crazy freak!  I’m never going to kill anyone, let alone for _you_!”

 

Irritatingly enough, this just makes the man laugh again, “Oh, you are young aren’t you?  So self-centered.  No, boy, we don’t want you to take Sergeant Barnes’ place. If you’ll recall the incident with the helicarriers and operation Insight, you were one of the millions that were selected for termination. We still posses that data and it’s used for selection purposes just like this. No, we have a better candidate.  We need you for two things.  One of those things, we’ve already taken.  The other is more long term, we’ll say, and will require your cooperation.”

 

Operation Insight? Termination? Peter will have to ask Mr. Stark what exactly that is because all he remembers about the helicarriers was that they were Hydra and bad. But focus, Peter.

 

“Long term?  How about we just leave it at the first part and I skedaddle now?”

 

Truth be told, Peter is extremely concerned by the fact that they’ve already taken something from him.  Maybe it was blood or tissue or something when he first got here?

 

“I’m afraid that won’t do.  Now, you’ll find out shortly what it is we need you to do.  The project will hopefully yield impressive results eventually but we’re ready to begin expanding your role here.  I felt, as project lead, that it was time we had a chat to reassure you of your place and need.  We can’t have you hurting yourself because you’re lonely, can we?  Rest assured, Peter, that you are contributing to something far greater than yourself.”

 

Peter doesn’t want to contribute, “You’re not going to get anything else from me!  If I don’t find my own way out, Mr. Stark will find me and kick your crazy butt into the ground!”

 

The man starts to walk back to the door and says, “Your faith in your betters is truly comforting, my boy.  I hope to see it directed towards myself and our goals one day.  Good night.”

 

The door shuts and Peter’s alone again.

 

He hears a hiss and is drifting off once again.

 

Peter really, really hates Hydra.

 

* * *

 

When Peter wakes up, _again_ , his head hurts and there’s a baby crib in his cell.

 

Peter feels that bears repeating.

 

There is a crib in the center of Peter’s cell.

 

With a baby in it.

 

Peter is not sure what to do about it besides make his displeasure known.

 

“H-hey assholes!  Did you seriously kidnap a baby?  Are you guys really that sick?”

 

God, Peter’s never been so furious.  Why the hell would Hydra kidnap a baby and put it in Peter’s cell?  What do they get out of it?

 

He looks to the ceiling, “Seriously?  J-just, why?”

 

Peter is honestly contemplating ramming himself into the wall again.  Self-injury didn’t really work the last time but Peter is not above repeating himself to get a damn point across.

 

Of course, the baby chooses that moment to start screaming.  Obviously.

 

Why not make the situation worse?

 

Jesus, that noise is freaking piercing, Peter thinks to himself.  His head hurts enough already, thanks. No need to add screeching baby in order to wreak havoc on Peter’s enhanced senses and his head.

 

He hurries over to the crib, muttering assurance to try and get it to stop, “H-hey now, little baby, everything’s fine!  You’re fine, I’m fine, we’re both fine!  Just trapped in a little white hell hole together!”

 

The baby’s wrapped, swaddled Peter thinks is the word, in a suitably white cloth.  Fair skin, brown eyes, and a little smattering of brown hair on its head.  It’s small and Peter thinks it can’t be much older than a few weeks old. 

 

This baby is a freaking newborn, Peter thinks.  Hydra is disgusting.

 

It also, distressingly, smells and not in the easy way.  Peter really hopes there’s a diaper on underneath all of that cloth.

 

Peter sighs up to the ceiling, “Can we get some diapers and, like, wipes or something?  Please?”

 

And, lo and behold, the same space in the wall he gets his food from opens and reveals a cache of various baby supplies.  Diapers, wipes, two extra sets of clothes and a bottle with milk.  Of fucking course Hydra prepared for this crap.

 

Peter kinda wants to congratulate himself on that unintentional pun but maybe it's in bad taste.

 

Peter also can’t get the image of an agent of Hydra buying diapers out of his head and that kind of makes him feel just a smidge better.

 

He takes the tray with the supplies and sets it on the table.  He stares at the diapers, mystified, and he takes a moment to wonder how exactly he ended up here.  Peter’s pretty sure that Flash, Michelle, and Ned would be laughing at him.

 

He shakes himself and focuses back on the task at hand, “Alright, baby!  It’s you and me and a diaper change.  I’ve never done any sort of child care before so we’re just gonna wing it.  I’m sorry in advance for, well, me.”

 

The diapers come with instructions and diagrams, blessedly, and aren’t too complicated to put on.  Peter’s got this.

 

Ten minutes, two diapers, and an unfortunate urine incident later say otherwise.

 

“Please, please, please stop screaming!  I’m sorry, I’m trying, I know this is horrible!  It is for me, too, and- dammit!  I forgot to wipe!”

 

Peter scrambles for the wipes and, oh god, he’s so not okay with how close he’s getting to this baby and it’s bodily secretions.

 

The baby stops screaming for, like, three wonderful seconds as Peter wipes it but immediately resumes as soon as Peter throws the wipe with the rest of the waste and gets back to the diaper.

 

The third time is, in fact, the charm and Peter manages to fit the new diaper to the baby snugly.  It stops crying and so does Peter.  Not that he was crying, no absolutely not, he was just leaking from having to look down so long and from the pee that burned his eyes.  That’s all.

 

Ugh, Peter thinks, recap.

 

He is now very acquainted with the smell of human feces and urine.  Very.  Acquainted.

 

He can also change a diaper.  Adult life skill achieved.

 

The baby is a boy and enjoys peeing on Peter’s face.  Or, well, it has a penis.  Peter thinks it’s safe to refer to the baby as a boy until he’s told otherwise by said baby?

 

He’s really not sure.

 

The point is that this baby peed on Peter’s face and he’s kind of in shock.

 

The Hydra creeps were probably laughing their asses off at him.  Dicks.

 

Peter places the baby back into its crib and heads to the bathroom corner to clean himself up.  He thinks he might scrub a couple layers of skin off his face too.

 

The shower is amazing and does wonders for Peter’s mood.  Maybe he should consider that the next time the baby gets upset?

 

Wait, can babies even be in showers? Peter doesn’t have a bath tub, how the hell is he supposed to clean the kid? The sink? Is the baby going to be around long enough for him to have to clean it?

 

Peter really, _really_ , hopes he’s not.  It’s sick that Hydra even has a newborn infant in the first place and Peter wants him to get back to his parents as soon as possible.

 

Oh, god, what if they killed his parents?

 

No, no use thinking about that now.  Peter finishes scrubbing himself down and takes the soiled clothes to the chute.  He felt uncomfortable showering in this room at first, avoided it as long as he could if he’s being honest, but he never sees the cameras that he’s sure are there and that helps a little.  He can pretend he’s not being watched.  Though, now he feels a little awkward being naked with a baby in the room.

 

Although, he’s seen the baby naked too, so it’s whatever.  It’s not like either of them have a choice.

 

He’s finished dressing himself and is forlornly staring down at the baby in its crib when the wall opens up again.  There is a single book set on the tray.  It looks to Peter like a guide, a how-to, book on babies and parenting.  Not exactly encouraging the idea that this is temporary, Peter thinks.

 

He picks it up and finds a note placed below it.

 

_Keep the child alive and healthy.  Further instruction to follow._

 

Peter thinks that this might be the second thing the man wanted from Peter.  He’s not sure if this is better or worse than what he was expecting.

 

He’s still not sure what the first thing, the thing they already took from him, was and he’s not entirely sure he wants to.

 

* * *

 

Okay.  Alright.

 

Peter’s got this.  He’s read the book, he’s earmarked the pages he knows he’s going to need later, and he’s mentally and emotionally readied himself.

 

Peter is going to pick up the baby.  Peter is going to hold the baby.

 

Peter’s got this baby thing on lock.

 

He reaches into the crib, secures his hold, and cradles the baby to his chest.

 

Everything's going well until Peter actually gets the kid to his chest.

 

It screams at him.

 

Yeah, sometimes Peter screams in horror at himself, too, kid.

 

“Hey, come on, little guy!  It’s just me, it’s just Peter!  No big, mean Hydra agents here, no sir!  Just Peter and baby,” he rocks the kid in his arms bouncing the two of them lightly, “just Peter and baby is all.  What’s there to cry about?”

 

Well, if Peter’s honest with himself, there’s a lot to cry about but he’s just trying to get this kid to stop crying.

 

Which isn’t happening.

 

“C’mon please? Stop? You’re not stinky. Hungry? Are we hungry?”

 

That’s probably what it is.

 

He rushes over, red-faced and screaming baby in arms, to the table where he left the tray with the baby supplies. The formula was there, along with the bottle, but he is not exactly sure what to do.  He knows he has to mix it, the formula came with instructions for the mixing ratios, but does he need hot water? Warm? Cold? Can he use the sink water?

 

Why couldn’t Hydra just send him milk with his meals?

 

Because baby’s need to eat more, duh, Peter.  He knows this.

 

They have to give him powder so he can feed the kid as much as he needs it and still keep Peter trapped in their schedule.

 

So, Peter mixes the baby formula with the water from the water fountain near the sink and lets it sit for a couple of minutes to try and get it to room temp.  Not that he really _wants_ to let it sit but it’s really cold and he doesn’t want this kid to cry anymore than it already is.

 

“See, you’re food is almost ready! It’s just gotta warm up a little and it’ll be good to go! You’ll love it so much you’ll forget how to scream,” Peter brings the baby up to his shoulder so their cheeks touch, “and then you’ll be full and you’ll sleep and it’ll be great!”

 

The baby is still screaming and it’s screaming in his ear now, so good job there, Pete.  Really nice.

 

Peter kinda hates himself.  All the time.

 

Thankfully, once he actually gets the bottle in the baby’s mouth it stops screaming and starts suckling.

 

And now Peter feels really weird and kinda creepy because _suckling_.

 

So, Peter is standing in a Hydra cell, a baby drinking milk in his arms, and he’s just-

 

“How is this my life? I can’t even imagine what May would say,” he scoffs to himself, “or, worse, what Mr. Stark would say.”

 

The baby is making some sort of humming noise that Peter takes as agreement.

 

“Yeah, I’m not prepared for their reactions.  It’s not really my fault, though, is it?  I did the best I could and I kicked butt, right?  You think I did my best right?”

 

The baby stared up at him, blankly, and still happily sucking down milk.

 

Peter sighs, “Yeah.  I get that.”


	3. Hades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This is kind of where it gets a little squicky. If you haven't noticed the non-con tag yet, this is really where it comes into play. There's nothing graphic but it's discussed. It's not too bad, I don't think, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.
> 
> This is a short one too. Sorry about that. The next chapter is a lot longer if that helps at all?
> 
> I hope you like it!

Several days later, Peter’s just gotten the kid down for a nap and is about to do the same for himself when he notices another hiss and more gas leaking into the room.

 

“No way!  No fucking way!  You can’t just put a baby under that way, you’ll hurt him!  You can’t!”

 

Peter can already feel himself getting lighter, can already feel his eyes struggling to stay open.  It doesn’t burn like the last time, though, which means it might not hurt the baby?

 

Peter doesn’t know.  Peter can’t think.  He sleeps instead.

 

When he wakes up, he’s in the same chair in the same room and he can hear the door open.  The same click-clack of shoes and the same voice enter.

 

“Comfortable, Mr. Parker?  We hope so.  We hope you’re pleased with the company we’ve provided?  Not so lonely?”

 

Oh, Peter’s going to Spider-Man the shit out of this jerk, “You know, I want to say that I’m shocked you people are so horrible that you’re willing to take a baby from his parents but I’m really not.  You’re not going to get away with this!  You can’t just kidnap two kids and expect to not be hunted for it.  People are going to be looking for us!”

 

The voice chuckles for some reason.  This guy is ridiculously confident and Peter wants nothing more than take that confidence down a couple notches.

 

“Yeah, sure, laugh it up, buddy.  See if you feel like laughing when Iron Man gets here!”

 

He hears the click-clack of the man’s shoes moving behind him again, “Peter, my dear boy, if anyone can find us where we are I'll be shocked.  It would certainly be impressive given how divided, we’ll say, the world has been in the last year.  And really, Mr. Parker, if they haven’t found us yet do you think they’re ever going to?”

 

Peter knows he’s wrong, knows Mr. Stark will do anything, even work with Captain America, to find him, but he can’t help the dread that he feels hearing that, “W-what is it you want anyway?  You still haven’t told me anything!”

 

The voice hums, “Well, I don’t have to tell you anything at all, Mr. Parker.  But, if you insist that you _must_ know, I suppose I can shed some light on your role here.  First, let me preface by explaining exactly what this particular division of Hydra is attempting to do.”

 

Peter wants to snort, “Is it safe to assume that it’s the same thing all of Hydra wants?  World domination?”

 

The man laughs again, “In a sense, yes!  Well done, Mr. Parker.  Yes, we’re attempting to bring order to the world through another super soldier program.  Admittedly, they haven’t worked out in our favor in the past but I believe I’ve found a solution that will work in you!”

 

Peter can’t help but sputter, “I-I’ve already told you, I won’t fight for you!”

 

“There are some, Mr. Parker, that would argue that we could make you do so.  I, however, know that the Winter Soldier experiment was mediocre at best.  Wiping the mind in that way isn’t effective in the long term and Whitehall’s method isn’t much better in the end.” 

 

The man continued, “No, we decided to look at one of the more effective indoctrination methods in history, the Third Reich’s, and noticed an intriguing phenomenon.  The Hitler Youth program created an environment that promoted competition and the survival of the fittest while simultaneously making an entire generation devoted absolutely to Hitler and his Reich.”

 

“When the male members of the Hitler Youth were old enough they received military training and were eventually sent off to war.  Boys your age and younger were sent out to fight the Allies.  They did so happily, more than prepared to die for their Führer.  They were the most vicious fighters, the most reckless, and were some of the last to stop fighting.  They halted the Allies’ advance after the invasion of Normandy at Caen for weeks.  The Soviets fought boys as young as twelve all the way to Hitler’s bunker!”

 

“This, we thought, was the best method to produce truly loyal, steadfast soldiers.  The only issue was the super part of the super soldier.”

 

The man’s voice stops and he takes a breath, “When we found you, Peter, we discovered your abilities to be genetic after retrieving a few samples from the scenes of your various antics.  Your strength, healing, stamina, all of it.  This is lucky for you, my friend, or you would be in a much more unpleasant situation.”

 

“Yes, you rival Captain America in physicality and you rival Tony Stark in genius.  You are a wonderful and unique young man and we couldn’t let such an opportunity pass us by.  Your line will create soldiers that will be unmatched and will win Hydra the world.”

 

Peter can feel the bile rising in his throat and the horror sinking into his bones, “Ar-are you saying what I think you’re saying?  Th-that baby is mine? You, you took m-my sperm and made a fucking baby?  To be your weapon?”

 

The man let out a sigh, “I realize this might be distressing.  Some in the project felt it unnecessary to take something so intimate from you and to then keep you here.  We could clone him, take samples, store them, and then terminate him, they said.  Bah!  Cloning is risky, fragile.  It never produces truly useful individuals.  And you are far too valuable a specimen to simply terminate.  No, I knew it was best to stick with the tried and true method of reproduction.  Of course, we knew you would not be willing so artificial harvesting and insemination were necessary.  The carrier, unfortunately for her, was not as valuable as yourself.  We have to keep you around and relatively healthy if we want to continue to produce our soldiers.  We simply don’t have the resources, disappointingly, to waste on keeping the carriers around for repeated use or to employ them in caring for the children.”

 

Peter vomits on himself.

 

The man scoffed a bit and continued, “As far as we can tell, the child will develop normally.  It has yet to demonstrate any of your abilities, though it does seem to have a more acute awareness and a more robust immune system.  We will have to wait and see, I suppose.  Age acceleration, like cloning, produces defective individuals so we’ll be letting this one grow naturally.  Perhaps, with further research and development, we will not need to do so with later versions.  Your services, in reference to caring for the children, will almost certainly no longer be needed then if that is a source of comfort to you.”

 

“To answer your earlier question, Peter, the child is both the first and second tasks we have for you.  You fulfilled the first part already, as we’ve discussed, but now you must fulfill the second.  You are to care for the child until such a time that we relieve you of him.  We will provide you with all necessary materials and have ensured the two of you have room to exercise; you must begin its training in the use of its abilities once they develop and keep it healthy.  Failure to comply or to meet the standards we will set will result in the termination of your aunt.  Continued failure will result in the termination of the child.  Then we’d have to start again and I don’t think that is something you would want.”

 

The man starts to leave the room again but turns back to Peter before leaving, “Again, I realize this might be distressing but I must implore you to try and understand what an honor this is.  You have a child!  You should be happy.  Children are a blessing.”

 

He steps out and shuts the door.  Peter is left alone for darkness to take him.

 

* * *

 

Peter can hear the baby’s discomfort. It isn’t crying, yet, but it’s not happy.

 

Peter can’t bring himself to care. Peter’s not happy either.

 

That’s his child. Tha-that _thing_ just feet away from him is genetically half his. It was created from sperm that was taken from him while he was drugged by horrible people.

 

Looking at it makes him sick to his stomach.

 

He knows, logically, the baby had no part in anything but he can’t help it.

 

Peter’s fucking fifteen and he’s a father.

 

Peter still gets nervous about masturbating and he’s a father.

 

Peter’s never had sex and he’s a father. 

 

Peter’s not even sure he likes girls exclusively and he’s a father.

 

Someone touched him, _used_ him, while he was sedated and took this choice from him.

 

That baby is the reason Peter’s life is over. It’s the reason its mother’s life is over.

 

Peter hates himself for feeling this way but—

 

Peter’s been reduced to _fucking breeding stock._

 

Fuck.

 

These assholes want him to care for this kid for some fucked up reason.  They want a kid to raise a kid.  God, what is he supposed to do?

 

Peter can barely take care of himself.

 

Besides, he’s killed everyone blood related to him by just existing.  His parents.  Ben.  He wouldn’t be surprised if he is eventually responsible for May’s and Mr. Stark’s deaths regardless of their blood relation.  Do they really think that Peter can raise this fucking baby? He’ll probably kill it by just being near it!  That’d really teach those Hydra fucks.

 

“Ugh, why does the fucked up stuff always happen to me?”

 

God, why was Mr. Stark taking so long!  Peter has no idea what to do and he knows May would! Even Mr. Stark might be able to help him!

 

Peter just can’t believe that he’s-

 

Wait.

 

Why is Peter just taking these jerks at their word? How does he know that this kid is his?  They could be lying!

 

…But why would they lie about this, in particular?  They could have just said they would hurt the baby if he didn’t cooperate and Peter would have still done what they said just to keep him safe.

 

Maybe they just want to hurt Peter more like the sadists they are.  He’s just not sure.

 

The thought that they might be lying or that they might have told him what they did just to hurt him more or make him more compliant is enough to break Peter out of his spiraling thoughts and puts a little fire back into his gut.

 

_Well_ , he thought, _either way, I’m going to have to take care of this kid for now. I won’t let Hydra ruin anyone else._

 

Peter picks up the one parenting book they gave him and starts to read it again.  A bit more closely this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was short.
> 
> I hope that wasn't too bad, guys. This chapter was definitely the one I struggled the most with so I'm sorry if it's rough. I also know a lot of you have been guessing, accurately, about most of this so I hope this lived up to what you were expecting?
> 
> I debated on cloning versus not for a while but eventually went with this because cloning just doesn't seem to be too fleshed out in the MCU. I don't know. I'd love to know what you guys think.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! See you next Monday!


	4. Iris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I almost forgot to post this. The baby finally gets a name? I hope you guys like it!

Peter has a new found appreciation for all of the things that May and Ben and his parents have done for him throughout his life.  Parenting is a ridiculously complex, terrifying thing and the kid can’t even speak or walk yet.  There are so many different things that he has to worry about now.

 

What’s the baby’s temperature, is he hungry, does he need his diaper changed, is he breathing okay, are his clothes clean, is the temperature of the room too hot or too cold, is he chewing on anything he shouldn’t be, has he slept enough.

 

So much to worry about.

 

But Peter is, a little surprisingly, actually kind of fond of the little guy now.  Especially after spending four weeks with him.  Bonding, something that his book said is just as important for babies as food or sleep, is definitely the highlight of Peter’s life in prison considering that he hasn’t had any real human contact since before he was captured.

 

Of course, there are struggles.  Some days, Peter can barely look at the boy.  He only sees the living, breathing proof that he was milked and breed like fucking cattle and it makes him simultaneously want to never leave his bed and beat himself unconscious against the wall. 

 

The kid cries so much that Peter was worried there was something seriously wrong with him.

 

It’s gas, Peter discovers, most of the time.  He wonders if he was a gassy baby too.

 

So, when Peter wakes four weeks to the day, as best as he can keep track at least, of the baby’s arrival, he crawls out of bed and starts their morning routine.  He checks on the baby, still sleeping and smelling fine, and then moves to start getting himself showered and ready.  Since their first round of supplies for the day haven’t been delivered yet, Peter’s got some time for a nice and, uh, _relieving_ shower.

 

What?  Peter’s got needs too and very little time for them.  Besides, he’s _long_ past embarrassment about normal bodily functions.  A month trapped in a room with a baby will do that to a guy.

 

Anyway, Peter finishes his shower, puts on his pants and notices that the morning supply load has been delivered.

 

“Nice,” he says to himself, “time to get to work.”

 

He scarfs his own food down quickly, while the baby is still asleep, and then sets about getting the formula ready.  He’s pouring the water when a hitched cry grabs his attention.  Peter drops everything, letting the water flow, and rushes to the crib.  The baby’s wide brown eyes stare up at him, his face screws up with the coming waterworks.  This kid looks so much like Peter, even as young as he is, that he doesn’t doubt too much anymore that he’s Peter’s.  As _heavy_ as the idea might be, it’s one he’s started to accept.

 

“Hey, baby,” Peter cooing in a high voice that the baby seems to respond better to, “how are we this morning?”

 

He reaches down to pick him up and gets a whiff of a now very familiar smell, “Oh a little stinky, huh? Let’s get you changed and fed and then there won’t be anything to cry about will there?”

 

Honestly, Peter, in his admittedly short life, had never thought he would be grateful for diapers but he’s pretty sure that the both of them would have died long before now if Hydra didn’t give them a regular supply.  Then again, there’s a lot about his current situation that he had never considered before.

 

Once the baby’s changed, Peter finishes up his formula.

 

“Who wants some nom-noms, huh?  Yummy milk just for you!” Peter coos.  The baby looks up at him with a gummy mouth open and garbling nonsense.

 

Peter cradles the baby in his arms, close to his bare chest, and brings the bottle to his lips.  He latches on readily and starts to suck down the formula.  This kid, Peter thinks, consumes more formula than Peter ever imagined a baby could.

 

Maybe, the sour thought creeps in, that’s Peter’s genetic influence.  The association still disturbs Peter more than he’d care to admit.  He’s adjusted to the idea, of course, but it isn’t an easy idea to think about;  Peter’s a 15-year-old father.

 

Or is he sixteen?  It’s been nearly a year hasn’t it?  Taken at the end of August, nine months for the baby to be born, one month before they gave him to Peter.  Ten months.

 

“It’s almost June baby.  I guess I’m sixteen then.  I missed my sweet sixteenth.  May 8th, come and gone.  Hell, I missed my sophomore year of high school!  Can you believe that, baby?  God, homecoming feels like 10 years ago not ten months ago.”

 

Peter sighs and glances down back at the baby.  He’s still suckling away.

 

“It’s been a month since you and I met.  Since you were born,” Peter shuts his eyes and looks up, “I guess I should name you, then.  They might have a name or a label for you but tha-that’s not your _name_.  I’m your only parent left, right, so I have to name you.  Hydra won’t take that away from us.”

 

To be honest, Peter’s been very deliberately not thinking about this.  Like, if he doesn’t name the baby, it’s not real?  It’s not _his_ and not his responsibility but—

 

He has to do this.  This baby is _his_ and it _is_ his responsibility.  He can’t run from it anymore, can he?

 

“Ben.  Benjamin.”

 

Saying that name sends a shock of pain through Peter still, almost two years later.  But it also strikes him because it’s kind of, Peter doesn’t, solidifying their bond. This kid is Peter’s now for sure.

 

“But you need more than just a first name, right?  You need a middle name too.”

 

Which is kind of shit because Peter’s not sure what to do about that.  He thinks that he should maybe use his father’s name, Richard, but Peter—

 

Well, Peter never really knew his parents.  They went missing when he was four and his memories of them are vague shadows.  He wouldn’t even know what they looked like if Ben and May hadn’t kept all of their pictures.

 

Honestly, Mr. Stark is more of a father to Peter than Richard Parker ever really got the chance to be. 

 

Wait.  That’s an idea.

 

“How do you feel about Anthony?  Benjamin Anthony Parker?”

 

He looks into the baby’s eyes, “It fits, I think.  Benjamin Anthony Parker,”  Peter’s chest is swelling and he can’t help but huff out a choked chuckle, “It’s nice to meet you, Benjamin Anthony Parker.  I’m Peter Benjamin Parker.  I’m—“

 

Peter swallows and steels himself, “I’m your dad.”

 

Ben’s let the bottle go and Peter lowers it.  Peter’s smiling down at this tiny little thing, feels his skin on his own skin and its heat, and sees, for the first time, Ben smiling back up at him.

 

Peter, for the first time in nearly a year, actually feels a sense of peace.  And maybe a little belonging too.

 

* * *

 

After, Peter’s and Ben’s life in their cell is easier on Peter.  He’s not alone, he has a ridiculously important reason to get the hell out and he really wants to make Hydra regret ever messing with Peter’s family.

 

Peter moves the crib next to his bed and only lets Ben sleep in his bed for short periods of time.  He’s heard stories, before he got kidnapped, of babies that suffocate in regular beds or are crushed by their parents in their sleep and he doesn’t want that to happen to Ben.  But he also can’t have Ben too far away from him anymore.

 

Ben never leaves his side now, truthfully.  Quite literally, too, because Peter’s taken to using his stickiness to keep Ben attached to his hip, with an arm securely fastened behind him.

 

Peter hasn’t worn a shirt in _days_.

 

Is it weird and probably unsafe?  Maybe a little.  But, hey, Peter’s been throwing himself off of buildings for months and never lost his grip so he’s pretty sure of his ability to keep Ben attached to him. 

 

Though, there was that one time where Ben tried to suck on Peter’s nipples that made it a little weirder.  Peter honestly wasn’t sure where that instinct had come from because he definitely never tried to _breastfeed_ Ben.  God, that was just weird.

 

Anyway, sometimes he wonders if he might even helps Ben’s power development along a little by doing this.

 

Maybe one day they could break out of here together, if Peter can’t do it himself.

 

Some days Peter feels like he’s playing directly into Hydra’s hands.  He’s attached to Ben and he’s sure Hydra’s going to try to use that against them.  He doesn’t know when, exactly, they’re going to start trying to turn Ben into a weapon but he knows it’ll probably be sometime after he turns two.  Ben’s not really aware enough to start molding him.  Peter can only hope that they put it off for longer.

 

He knows he should try and distance their relationship, knows that he should try and mess with their plans as best he can, but he can’t help but love the sweet boy in his arms.

 

Peter kind of understands now why May and Mr. Stark get so distressed over Peter being Spider-Man.  Peter wants nothing more than to keep Ben safe from all the danger in the world.  It definitely makes him appreciate the two of them more.

 

Peter something ugly grip his chest and tears start to gather at the corners of his eyes.  He takes a deep breath and lifts his head towards the ceiling, “Please, _please_ , Mr. Stark, hurry.  I miss you guys so much.  I’ll never complain about you making fun of me in the lab and I’ll never complain about May’s cooking again, just please come and get me.  Please.”

 

Fuck, did he miss his family.

 

“I can’t wait for you guys to meet Ben.  You’ll love him so much.  He makes the cutest sounds when he wants to cuddle and I swear he’s so smart it scares me.  He’s only three months old but I just know he’s starting to understand what I say to him.  He’s so aware and I know you’ll love him.”

 

Peter chuckles to himself, “And, I know, I shouldn’t have made either of you grandparent’s so young.  I mean, according to you.  I happen to think the two of you are just the right age to be fun grandparents.  Well, at least Mr. Stark.  He’s practically ancient.”

 

He starts to walk around his cell, the beginning of his morning exercise.  He keeps Ben in his arms, of course.  Peter only puts Ben down when he sleeps.

 

He’s creeping ever closer to a year in this cell.  While he and Ben have only been _PeterandBen_ for a couple of weeks, it’s almost been eleven months by his count.  It might be more or less, Peter’s only measurement of time has been what he marks down as days in his head which might not even be days, but he’s pretty confident that it’s around there.  Sometimes, when he can’t sleep at night, he worries that May and Mr. Stark might think he’s dead in a ditch somewhere.

 

Sometimes he worries that they might have given up on him.

 

“They wouldn’t do that, though, would they, Benny?  Nope, not until they found a body.  And my body’s right here.  With you!  So, we just have to be patient and do our best to help them out,” he looks down and smiles at Ben, “you think you might be able to help me think of a way to at least a signal out?”

 

Ben smiles right back, reaching a little hand up, and coos at Peter.

 

While that might make him feel a bit better, it doesn’t really help him resolve their issues. If he could just find some way to get out of the room, he might be able to find a phone or something to try and contact them. They have to be able to move him out of it given how they’ve taken him to the dark room a few times. There has to be a way to open up a door.

 

He’s just not sure how he could do that. Maybe if he could see into the supply door and look between the walls? They close it so quick once he’s moved the food and stuff, though, that he can’t get his head in in time and he can’t just _dive_ in it all the way, he’s too big, so—

 

Wait. _Peter_ is too big but _Ben_ isn’t.

 

God it’s a terrible idea, and Peter hates himself for thinking it, but they might not close the opening if Benjamin is in it. That might give Peter enough time to break something and get out of the room.

 

It’s fairly safe for Ben, too. They’re not going to risk hurting Ben too much, not when he’s the only thing keeping Peter in check and their quickest choice for producing the solider they want.  Peter hopes so, at least.

 

Peter’s other options are...significantly worse.  They involve seriously injuring himself or Ben and attempting to break out when they put him in the dark room before the man comes in.

 

Or Peter could give in and wait for rescue.  He doesn’t really think that will happen if it hasn’t already so that would just be doing what Hydra wanted.

 

Not that he blames Mr. Stark. Peter knows that they must be going out of their minds trying to find him. Peter doesn’t doubt that Mr. Stark probably recruited everyone he could to help find him. He knows they’ve got to be trying.

 

But Peter wants to try to help too.

 

“Well, Benny? Think you can help me get us out of here?”

 

Ben, having distracted himself by gnawing on his very tiny fingers, ignores Peter’s question.

 

“That’s okay.  I think you’ll do great!  We’ve got this.”

 

Operation Stork Returns is a go!

 

* * *

 

In retrospect, Peter really should have considered the fact that there were two Parkers in their cell and not just one.  So, the infamously horrible Parker Luck is doubled.

 

With his collarbone stuck between the wall and the small door that had still shut even though Ben and Peter were both in the way, Peter has nothing but time to consider how really terrible his luck is.  Granted, the tray did hesitate long enough to allow Peter to get his head in before it decided to try and close again, so the mission was kind of accomplished?  But Peter still thinks it’s just the Parker Luck doubled that’s the issue.

 

Ugh, he thinks, this is one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced.

 

Really.  Peter thought being orphaned almost twice over, nearly dying several times trying to do the right thing, being mutated, having a jetway dropped on him by Captain fucking America, and having an entire building collapsed on top of him were pretty bad things but he’s starting to consider having his head stuck in a small chute/crawlspace with a baby that’s shit itself and is crying its heart out while having very enhanced senses as being the Absolute Worst.

 

God, Peter has the worst freaking luck.

 

“Ben, babe, please, I know this sucks but your crying is not making it any easier for Daddy to get us out of here.”

 

And Ben proceeds to ignore him and cry harder.  Because why not?

 

Peter sighs.

 

On the plus side, though, Peter is pretty sure that the materials _behind_ the walls are actually materials that Peter could break.  All Peter needs to do is get an arm inside this stupid ass crawlspace and he can break the tray and opening.  Maybe even make it wider if he can get the infrastructure behind the wall to collapse.

 

“Alright, Peter-Man, wait, shit, Spider-man, _Spider-man_ , you got this.  Take a deep breath,” oh fuck, nope, that was a mistake, “never-mind, don’t breath, just plant you legs and push!”

 

With his feet and one hand firmly stuck to the wall Peter begins to push with everything he’s got.  Which, in Peter’s and Mr. Stark’s opinions, is a considerable amount of force.  Peter can feel the edges of the thing digging into his collarbone and is almost certain that it’ll leave some kind of mark.

 

He can also feel, however, that the drawer is giving way.  It’s extending out again, just enough for him to reach his free arm into it.  He brushes just past Ben, resists the urge to try and comfort him, and begins to feel around for the extension mechanisms.  When he manages to feel them out, he grips one side and crunches them as hard as he can.  He can feel the metal twist and warp and then he _pulls_ on more time—

 

The whole tray gives, nearly throwing poor, screaming Ben across the room.  Peter manages to catch him, sticking to him immediately, and pulls him close.

 

“Holy fuck.  Oh my- oh my god, yes!  Yes!”

 

Peter’s never been so fucking ecstatic.  Ben’s still screaming but Peter can’t deal with him right now.  This is his chance!  _Their_ chance, he means.

 

He rushes Ben back to his crib, sets him down, and sprints back to the wall.  He can see pretty clearly into the crawlspace now and can see where the other side of the supply delivery system is.  A small crack in the wall, where the wall opens sideways directly opposite where it extends on his side, lets a little light through.

 

Peter uses all the strength he has to make an opening big enough for him to squeeze through, tearing the supports of his cell walls in half, and shoves his fist straight through that stupid, little crack.  Half of the wall around it gives too.

 

Immediately, Peter hears an alarm go enough and he jumps straight through the opening he’s made, bits of wall and metal scraping at his skin.  He darts down the hallway, a grey color instead of the horrid stark white he’s been stuck with.  He’s more than a little relieved.

 

“Alright, come on, c’mon, I just need a phone, a computer, something,” he pants to himself, “just need to signal someone.  Then make it seem like I’m trying to escape.  Can’t let them relocate.”

 

He hangs a left at the first intersection he comes to and then sees a door, the first he’s seen in months, and barges straight through it.

 

Glass shatters as the three lab techs in the room drop the various equipment they’re holding.

 

The one nearest Peter is gaping at him, “Oh- oh fuck, you’re not supposed to be out!  How the he—“

 

Peter doesn’t let him finish that thought.  He darts straight at the man, knocks him the face hard, and he goes down cold.  The other two women don’t get the chance to do anything more than shout because Peter’s _fast_.

 

Once they’re down and Peter’s cleared the room of any cameras, he searches them for anything he could use to send a signal.  None of them have a phone but one of the women has an iPod.

 

“Yes!  Fuck, yes!”

 

Peter opens it, not password protected thankfully, and opens up the mail app.  It’s connected to the internet somehow, Peter’s not going to question miracles, so Peter immediately begins typing in May’s email address.  Peter types ‘PETEREMERGENCY’ in the subject line and types ‘track the iPod connected to this account’ in the text box.  He sends it.

 

He can hear the sound of boots running his direction over the sound of the alarm.

 

The fucking blue bar won’t move any faster!

 

“C’mon, c’mon!”

 

The bar finishes loading and there’s a whooshing sound.

 

“Delete, delete, hurry!”

 

He navigates to the sent folder and deletes it.  The boots are getting closer.

 

He jumps to the ceiling and stashes the iPod on top of a cabinet.  He drops down and sprints out the door and back into the hallway.  He turns to continue running the way he was before, makes it down to the end of that hallway, and then turns the corner to find a group of heavily armed guards charging towards him.

 

Peter turns tail and starts to run the other way. 

 

“Look like you’re trying to escape,” he pants, “escape, escape, escape.”

 

The guards have finally decided to start firing at him, tranquilizer rounds it seems, and Peter’s spider-sense still works wonders after months of disuse.  He rounds another corner and—

 

Finds a dead end.  There’s one door to his right that he can’t get open so he takes to the ceiling.  He really didn’t want to have to fight anyone but, well, he _is_ Spider-Man and he can’t just let these goons take him without a fight.  He scrambles across the ceiling, flat as he can make himself, and jumps down on the third guard to round the corner.

 

It’s a bit of blur for Peter after that.  He bends, twists, and flips this way and that.  He punches and kicks and throws everything in reach.  Inevitably, after months of no practice and very little exercise, he feels a tranq sink into his skin.

 

He feels the first few blows once he can’t lift his arms to block them but even that pain is eventually numbed.

 

Everything fades to black and Peter falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you guys don't hate me too much for the name. You'd be surprised at how difficult it is to come up with another name that Peter Parker might use when naming a male child besides Benjamin so I kinda struggled with the middle name. And since we know almost nothing about MCU Peter's background, I don't think they even mention if there is a Ben, I'm taking some liberties with his parents. I just don't see Peter naming his kids after parents he never really had. Please let me know what you think though!
> 
> I do feel the need to highlight the POV of this story after this chapter. It's important to realize that we're only seeing these events through Peter's eyes and we only get access to his thoughts. There's actually a lot more going on both in and out of this base than what we can see. I'm planning on writing a one or two shot detailing what's happening from others' viewpoints later which will hopefully answer any questions anyone might have.
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	5. The Wrath of Zeus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go guys. It's the end! Well, the end of this story. I hope you guys enjoy!

Peter blinks his eyes open wearily.  He feels so heavy, like the first time he woke up in that goddamned cell, and struggles to lift himself up.  His abs fail him and he collapses back into his bed.

 

He turns his head to take in the room.  He’s back in his cell and the wall has been fixed.  Ben’s crib has been moved from his bedside and is in the center of the room.  It’s terribly, horrifyingly, quiet.

 

Peter can feel the anxiety building in his chest.

 

Please, he prays, please let that have worked, let them come.

 

He manages to roll himself out of bed and somehow stumbles his way to Ben’s crib.  He’s laying in it quietly.  Peacefully.

 

But Ben is pale.  So.  Pale.

 

Peter can’t tell if he’s breathing.

 

Peter can’t hear Ben’s heartbeat.

 

_Failure to comply will result in termination of your aunt and the child_

 

He hears the man’s voice in his head.  He feels the terror set in his bones.

 

“N-nononono, no, please, I’m s-sorry, no, you can’t,” Peter sobs, “please, you can’t take him, please it wasn’t his fault, please!”

 

Peter can’t stop the tears, can’t stop his breath hitching.  He feels like his blood has turned to ice and his bones have turned to ash and like he’s floating away.

 

He wants to rip his heart out and put it in Ben’s chest just to keep him _there_.

 

“Please, don’t make him go, I don’t want him to go, please, I’m sorry! Hurt me, take me!  Just bring him back please!  Please just brin—“

 

_ba-bumb_

 

Everything freezes.  Peter stops breathing, listens, and counts.

 

30 seconds.

 

45.

 

A minute.

 

_ba-bumb_

 

The wall opens.  The same way and same place it always does.  Peter numbly walks to it.  There’s another, solitary note.

 

_Attempt escape again and your aunt’s head will be delivered to you.  Attempt escape after that and the boy will die.  The toxin the boy was injected with will be purged from his system in two hours._

 

Peter feels relief like he never has before flood through his body.  They must’ve put something in Ben that slowed his bodily functions down.  He’ll be okay.

 

Peter returns to Ben’s side and lifts him out of the crib.  He’s limp and pale and cold in a way that makes Peter want to die.

 

He’s like this because of Peter.  Because Peter left him.  Because Peter wanted to get out.  Because Peter needed to be hurt and this was the easiest way to hurt him.

 

Another Ben nearly died because of Peter again.

 

Peter feels fractured and disjointed in a way he didn’t think was possible.  He never wants to feel like this again.  He’s never going to let anything hurt Ben again.

 

Ever.  Again.

 

He sits on the bed, cuddling Ben to his chest, and rocks himself back and forth.

 

“You’re okay.”

 

“You’re just fine, baby.”

 

“Everything’s okay.”

 

“You’re here, with me, and safe.”

 

“I’ll do better.  Nothing will happen to you.  I’ll keep you safe.”

 

“I love you.  Daddy loves you so much.  Stay with me.”

 

“Don’t go.”

 

“Please.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

_ba-bumb_

 

* * *

 

The routine shakily settles in again.  Ben regains his vigor and he bounces back like a fucking champ.  Peter doesn’t put him down except when Peter sleeps and even that induces a metric fuck ton of anxiety.  Ben is in his arms while he showers, while he exercises, while he makes their food.

 

Peter can’t put him down.  He has to hear, has to feel, that _ba-bumb_ constantly.

 

Hell, Ben stays with him when Peter uses the toilet.

 

It’s so much like after Peter named him but so _different_ too.  This is anxiety and fear and protectiveness not the wonder and awe and love of that very brief period.

 

Peter wonders if this is how May felt when she saw him in the suit.  If this is how Tony felt when he saw Peter get swatted out of the air by a giant.

 

If it is, Peter feels the need to apologize.  This whole experience has been so indescribably horrendous that Peter would rather murder a million Hydra goons than ever deal with the possibility that his child was dead again.

 

Peter doesn’t kill, forbade himself from even considering it when he started fighting crime, but Peter would bring down nations for Ben.

 

What’s a few snapped necks?

 

So the routine settles in again.  Peter loses track of the days and stops trying to count.  Either his attempt to contact Mr. Stark and May worked or it didn’t.  Peter can’t risk Ben or May again.  He _can’t_.

 

As much as he wants to make every single person involved in this sick experiment pay, Peter has to admit that they went about it in a pretty crafty way.  Using Peter’s own behavioral patterns, his tendency to attach himself to people, against him is smart.

 

Peter fucking hates smart bad guys.

 

God, Peter hopes that his attempt worked.  He can’t let Ben grow up in this, can’t let _himself_ grow up in this.

 

Peter hates being helpless, being weak, like this but he has to be strong and patient for Ben.

 

For Ben.

 

It’s all for Ben.

 

Looking down at the boy, Peter can’t say that he would do anything differently now.  He has to keep Ben safe.

 

He hopes Mr. Stark will get to them soon.

 

* * *

 

The day Peter’s life changed for the better, significantly, started out like any other.  Peter woke up before Ben, miraculously, and leaves him asleep so Peter can start his morning rituals.  As long he’s in sight and where Peter can hear him they’re okay.  He gets in the shower and even manages to squeeze in a little Peter-time.  He makes up Ben’s breakfast when it’s sent through and eats his own.

 

Ben wakes when he fills his diaper and lets Peter know very quickly.  Peter changes his diaper and then feeds him.  It’s Bath Day for Ben which actually tends to make both Ben and Peter pretty happy.  Ben splashes around happily while Peter, almost an old hand at baths now, cleans him as well as he can without baby soap.  Ben coos and makes the cutest little happy noises while he’s in the water.

 

They make Peter feel a little lighter.

 

Peter runs through the exercise routine he’s made for himself and then plays with Ben, while Ben’s awake, for the rest of the day.

 

When Ben naps, Peter tries to do the same.  Mostly he just ends up thinking too much.

 

After dinner and before bed, Peter breaks out the baby handbook, as he’s begun to call it, and reads to Ben from it.  He tries to make the pretty dry text sound fun by changing his tone and pitch.  The sparse pictures are always examined in detail and this day is no exception.

 

Peter rocks Ben to sleep, lays him down in his crib, and the puts himself to bed.

 

They sleep.

 

Later that night, though, the routine is broken when Peter and Ben are woken up by loud rumbling and flickering lights.  The room shakes every time another loud blast sounds and makes Ben cry just a little harder.

 

Peter jumps up out of bed, throwing the covers off of himself, and gets Ben in his arms as quickly as he can, holding him to his bare chest and sticking their skin together.

 

The flickering lights, loud booms, and Ben’s crying play havoc on Peter’s hypersensitive senses and are no doubt doing the same to Ben.

 

Another boom, an explosion Peter thinks, goes off very near one wall of his cell and nearly sends him and Ben careening to the floor.  It’s only Peter’s extraordinary adhesiveness that keeps them upright.

 

Peter’s not sure what’s going on, exactly, but his heart lifts a little at the thought that it might, just might, be an actual _rescue_.

 

“It’s okay Benny babe, everything’s okay,” Peter whispers, “let’s go take cover by the shower just in case.”

 

Peter very quickly and very carefully moves the to shower and positions himself so Ben faces the wall and Peter’s back is to the room.

 

Just in time, too, because the same wall Peter managed to break out of is blown out.

 

He can hear gunshots and screams, the sounds of battle, much more clearly now.  Peter hears one thing, though, that makes him start crying and turn around.

 

A repulsor blast knocking a Hydra soldier away.

 

Then _Iron Man_ walks through the hole where the wall used to be.

 

Ben is bawling, of course, because he’s scared but Peter’s tears are nothing but pure joy.

 

“Peter,” a voice Peter hasn’t heard in months shouts into the room, “you in here, kid?  Fry, sentry mode.”

 

Tony Stark steps out of the Iron Man suit and looks around.  Peter can’t say a word, can’t move, until Tony’s gaze finds him.

 

His eyes are relieved, at first, and then go wide once he realizes what Peter has in his arms, “Peter, why is there a baby?  Wait, no, ignore that, we gotta—“

 

Peter bolts across the room and uses one arm to throw himself into Tony’s arms, careful not to squish Ben too hard.

 

“You came,” Peter cries, “you-you got my message!  You came, you’re here, god you’re really, really here!”

 

Tony wraps his arms around Peter and Ben, pulling them both close, “Of course I came.  I tried, Pete, I’m so sorry it took so long, but I couldn’t find any trace of you or anyone that might have taken you.  I even brought in-“

 

Peter shakes his head into Tony’s chest, “T-Tony, that doesn’t ma-matter at all, you came, you came to get me.  That’s all that matters.”

 

Peter can feel Tony swallow, “Yeah, kid, okay.  But we have to go now.  There’s a quinjet outside ready to take his back to New York.”

 

Peter nods and steps back, “Yeah, let’s get moving.  Where are we anyway?  They haven’t exactly let me out to look around.”

 

“Vermont.  Yeah, I know, unexpected.  It’s a mountain bunker in the Appalachians.  I think that was part of the reason why it was so hard for us to find anything.  We’re pretty far out in the country and this is a pretty secluded spot.”

 

Tony steps back into the suit and takes the lead, “Stay behind me, okay?  No heroics right now.”

 

Peter nods, “Yeah, okay.”

 

They start moving, Tony in front with Peter sticking close behind, and Peter starts to notice the absolute wreck that Tony and whoever helped him made.  Ben is, of course, still crying his head off and Peter sets about trying to calm him down some.

 

“Rhodey, I’ve got the kid, meet us at the jets.  Everyone else, clean up.  Search and destroy with extreme prejudice, please.”

 

Peter doesn’t listen to the responses because he’s too busy trying to calm Ben down.

 

“Peter.”

 

“C’mon, Benny, calm down.  We’re safe now, we’re with Tony.”

 

“Pete.”

 

“Everything’s okay baby boy, everything’s alright.”

 

“Peter!”

 

Peter jolts, “Wh-what, what’s wrong Mr. Stark?”

 

Tony just shakes his head, “Nothing, kid, just wondering why there’s a baby in your arms and where it came from.”

 

Peter really, really shouldn’t make light of this whole situation but, goddammit, he’s really happy to see Tony again and doesn’t want it to get too heavy yet, “W-well, Mr-Mr. Stark, when, uh, when two people love each other very much—“

 

He snorts, “Yeah, yeah, kid, I know.  I’m pretty sure I had the birds and the bees talk before your grandparents thought your parents needed it.  You know what I meant.”

 

Peter shrugs, “It’s a really long story, Mr. Stark.  Can it wait?”

 

Tony’s silent for a few moments as they drudge along, “Yes, it can wait.”

 

They move quickly through the rest of the bunker, quietly and undisturbed.  They reach what looks to be the remains of a large door that was ripped to shreds.  Peter can already hear the telltale sounds of aircraft powering up and can feel his heart start beating faster.

 

This is it, he thinks, it’s over.

 

They step outside and the first thing Peter notices is that there are two jets, only one of which is actually powered up.

 

The second thing Peter notices is the night sky.  He stops in his tracks and looks up, gazing at the stars.  He feels Ben do the same.

 

“Kid,” he hears Tony say, “Come on, we gotta go.”

 

Peter can only barely make himself respond, “This is the first time I’ve been outside in nearly a year.  It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the stars.  It’s the first time he’s been outside in his life.”

 

He feels Tony touch his shoulder and push, “I know, Pete, and I’m sorry.  I’ll take you to see the stars whenever and wherever you like but right now we have to leave.”

 

Peter nods, pulls Ben closer to his chest, and walks into the quinjet beside Tony, “Yeah, let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked the ending well enough. I struggled a bit with it but I'm fairly pleased with it.
> 
> I want to thank all of you for reading and sticking around! I love all of you!
> 
> I'm going to be taking a bit of a break, maybe a month or so, because I'm going to be out of the country, the U.S. that is, for a little while. When I get back I'm planning on putting out a couple of one-shots detailing other characters views and thoughts during this whole thing. I've got an actual sequel in the works too!
> 
> I'm also, very slowly, working on some other stories and plots that I hope you guys might give a chance to as well once I get them up!
> 
> Thank you all once again!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on updating on Mondays over the next few weeks. I hope you enjoyed and please feel free to leave a comment telling me what you did and didn't like and anyways I might improve!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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